Volume Ii Part 27 (2/2)
That was our first offence, but it was a very grave one! to fail to show to those ladies the consideration that was their due, and thereby to announce that we did not care for their society--that was an insult which they could not forgive. They began thereupon to discover that we were suspicious characters. Then, as you know, chance willed that we should, on two occasions, accept the escort of the proprietor of the Tower; he walked home with us one evening when a cow had frightened me almost to death, and another time when we were surprised by a violent storm in the country. In a small place like this, it rarely happens that one returns home without being seen by someone. We were noticed in the company of that gentleman, who has shown no desire for their company,--indeed, I believe that I was leaning on his arm, which necessarily intensified the wrath of those ladies,--and he who, during the nine years, more or less, that he has lived in this part of the country, has steadfastly refused all relations with the local notabilities, actually offers his arm to us--the newest of newcomers!
That incident was the source of a thousand and one absurd remarks. I come now to another fact which has furnished a subject of calumny to all these people: you hired a house at Ch.e.l.les shortly after we came here to live; you hired a whole house for your single self.”
”What business is that of theirs? I paid six months' rent in advance.”
”What business is it of theirs? why, monsieur, everything is the business of those who have nothing to do but to try to find out what is going on among their neighbors. Well, you come to see us--often; you call upon no one else in the place; therefore people are bound to think that you--that you take pleasure in our society.”
”Ah! madame, do you tell me this to make me come less often? Would you forbid my coming to see you?”
”I do not say that; but----”
Honorine seemed embarra.s.sed; Agathe was trembling from head to foot; and Edmond hesitated no longer.
”Madame!” he said, ”I like to believe that, seeing me come to your house so persistently, you have never supposed that I was led to come by a blameworthy desire, a frivolous sentiment. But I realize, nevertheless, that it is better that I should explain myself, that I should speak to you frankly, that I should follow your example in everything. I must not leave any basis for hateful suspicions. Madame, if I tell you that I love, that I adore Mademoiselle Agathe, I shall tell you nothing that you do not know; for you must have divined that love, which it would have been very difficult for me to conceal! But, when I avow my pa.s.sion for her, is not that equivalent to saying that my sole desire is to call her my wife, and that that will be my greatest joy? If I have not told you earlier, it was because I wanted to know--I wanted to be sure if Mademoiselle----”
”He wanted to be sure that I loved him, you see, my dear!” cried Agathe, unable longer to restrain her joy. ”And now he is very sure of it; that is what he was waiting for before speaking.”
”Why, Agathe! what are you saying?” exclaimed Honorine; while the girl, confused by what had escaped her lips, relapsed into speechless agitation.
But Edmond impetuously threw himself at Honorine's feet, saying:
”In pity's name, madame, do not reprove her, and do not force her to unsay those words which have made me so happy!”
Honorine gazed at the lovers for a few moments, then smiled and took a hand of each.
”Be calm, my children!” said she; ”I do not look very stern, I imagine.
Come, sit here beside me, and let us talk.--You love Agathe--yes, I do not doubt it; I had guessed as much; and it is because I have faith in your honor that I have allowed your visits. She loves you, too; why should I blame her for it, if this exchange of sentiments is to result in your happiness? You wish to be her husband, but first of all it is essential that you should know the whole story of her to whom you wish to give your name.
”Agathe bears only her mother's name--Montoni. Julia, her unfortunate mother, was loved by a young man of n.o.ble birth, Comte Adhemar de Hautmont. He did not abandon the woman who had given herself to him; he loved her dearly and intended to make her his wife; but, in order to avoid a rupture with his family, he was waiting until circ.u.mstances should favor his projected marriage. Alas! the young man suddenly disappeared; Julia never saw him again, never heard from him in any way; and when he left her, it was with a promise to see her soon, and he covered his daughter, then six years old, with kisses.”
”Why, that is most extraordinary! Did he not return to his family?”
”No; Julia caused inquiries to be made; she was unable to learn anything concerning her child's father, and six years later the poor mother placed her daughter in my care, saying:
”'I am dying; take care of my Agathe, who has no one but you to love her.'
”That, monsieur, is all that there is to tell concerning her whom you desire to call your wife; and that it was absolutely necessary to tell you.”
”Oh! madame, you do not think, I trust, that that can in any degree lessen my love for her or my desire to make her the companion of my life.”
”You see, my dear, it doesn't change his sentiments at all; I was sure that it would not!”
”Dear Agathe, your mother's misfortunes can but make you the more interesting in my eyes. But your father's sudden disappearance seems to me most extraordinary; it must be connected with some mysterious occurrence--with some crime, perhaps; who knows?”
”Ah! we have very often thought that.”
”And there has never been any clue, any circ.u.mstance to put you on the track of what happened to him?”
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